Questions

Marius knew the only reason why they allowed him to question the arrested culprit, was the paragraphs he´d named for them, reciting exactly those laws that entitled him to have a talk with the criminal for monsieur Javert and Fauchelevant – the two men who had been hired by the train company to investigate this crime. Questioning the culprit was part of this task after all.

The local inspector hated him, he knew that. He´d seen the despise in his eyes, when he´d outsmarted him with his knowledge of the law. And Marius had noticed, not for the first time, that it was a strange thing to know, that doing the right thing would make people hate you.

When he entered the cell, the man glared at him, suspiciously. But there was a hint of fear in his eyes, Marius could tell. This man was not as tough as he wanted him to think.

He took one more moment to regard the man, estimating, before he spoke.

"What were your orders in case you should fail to fulfill your mission?" he asked straight on, and the man frowned.

"What?" Not the question he´d expected.

Marius repeated for him: "In case you should fail. If you should get delayed or somehow interrupted … without getting arrested, I mean. How would you contact your boss? You said you were hired, didn´t you?"

The man visibly regretted to have told the police anything at all. But defending himself was obviously more important to him than defending his employers.

"I already told you." he snapped. "We didn´t contact him. He came to us."

"So after the mission would have failed for whatever reason …"

"The order was to sit tight in such a case, until we´d get word from him."

Marius felt the excitement rise. He was closing in on the crucial information. "And where would you sit tight?"

The man shrugged. "At home?"

"So you´re from this town."

"I work for the railway. Of course I´m from this town."

"I´d say you used to work for the railway." Marius corrected, but the man merely snorted.

"The train would have been dumped anyway."

"What?" now that was new to him.

The culprit just about seemed to realize what he´d said and closed off. "Nothing." he claimed but of course Marius would not just let him drop the subject. The man had slipped and he could tell that this little piece was just as crucial as the whereabouts of his boss.

"What do you mean by that?" he demanded to know, and the man, obviously not much of a fighter, gave in after all, spilling what he knew, almost too willingly.

"The train would have been finished soon anyway." he told Marius. "You really think those attacks were the first?"

"Do you hate your employers so much to sabotage them?"

"No. But I figured if it goes down, I can as well take the better deal out of it."

"What better deal? You´d be out of job if the railway´s destroyed."

For a change the man decided it wiser to be quiet, but sometimes silence was more telling than words.

"He offered you another job, didn´t he?" Marius asked, and he only needed to see the man´s gaze to know he was right. "Where?"

"He didn´t say where. Only that we wouldn´t have to be worried. If we hadn´t done it, someone else would have. I figured we deserved it more than any other asshole."

"Did this man show you any proof that he could guarantee you a new job?" Marius demanded to know, but at this the man began sulking.

"No."

"Then how could you even believe him?"

The gaze he received now was daring. "Because I did. Some people can simply be trusted, ya know."

Marius frowned, confused. "This man´s a criminal." he recalled.

"But he has honor. More than some police men I know."

"Honor among criminals." Marius murmured, straightening his back. Something about this notion seemed odd to him. Yet he tried to think, to find the hidden clue in all of this. After all. Who told him this man didn´t actually mean what he said. He knew first hand that the brand criminal was not necessarily a guarantee for the attribute bad.

"Give me your address." he demanded at last.

"Why?"

"I´ll have a look around your place. To see if you forgot to tell me anything."

"You have no right to do this."

But of course Marius was just as fast to tell this man which laws entitled him to search his apartment as he´d been before when he´d talked to the inspector. The criminal before him, looked at him with disgust.

"Let me guess." he said. "You´re a lawyer." When Marius didn´t answer, he just laughed. "Tell you what, lawyer. You can defend me in court if you want."

"Tell you what." Marius leaned forward, and the man skipped back, irritated. "You have nothing to defend yourself with." he told him. "You´re guilty. You´ve been caught red handed and your trial will be a short one. So you better think hard if you want to worsen your case or if it wouldn´t be better to propitiate the judge by helping the police. Your choice."

When Marius left the cell five minutes later, the criminal was quiet, sulking like a little kid.

...

Javert cursed when the rusty old nail he´d pulled out of the post, slipped from the lock and clattered down to the ground. He heard it jump and vanish to a place only God knew. No. Dammit. He tried to peek over his shoulder but it was simply too dark. He´d never find it again. Goddammit.

In his anger he tore on the shackles but of course the only thing he managed with this, was to hurt his own wrists. Outside he heard a carriage drive off, which meant that he´d won a little time. Just how long was unclear. The longer they left him here, the weaker he´d get, especially in his current condition. He needed to find a way out of here, before they came back, to kill and get rid of him. He needed to …

A sound from outside the room made him halt. Someone was coming. Had one of them stayed behind to take care of him after all? He tensed, ready to fight.

"Monsieur Javert?" the voice of a boy called through the door. "Monsieur."

Javert couldn´t believe it. The kid. From the street. What was he doing here? And why? But he had no time to think about it. Opportunities had to be used quickly before they were gone.

"See if there´s a key out there, kid." he ordered. "Or something to break the door with. Hurry. Before they come back."

"Just a minute." the kid answered, and Javert heard how something got ignited in the lock. Not a key. What?

The kid had to be a criminal gamin, grown up stealing and breaking in, he presumed. If he knew how to pick locks. But maybe he only overestimated himself, having heard too many adventure stories …

The door was open and the boy rushed inside. Only one glance and he knew which lock was the next he had to open for Javert. Way too professional for Javert´s liking, even though this development was very much in his favor.

"How do you know how to do that?" he asked while the boy opened his cuffs.

"What do you mean, you taught me." the kid answered, never even looking up. "And I have never used it for anything illegal, I promised! This here doesn´t count, now does it?"

"Who are you?" this time Javert earned a very strange gaze for his question. The kid stopped in his attempts to open the lock, to simply stare at him, aghast.

"Carry on, they could come back." he urged him and the boy flinched, obeying without objection. This time Javert kept his questions to himself until his hands were free. And the kid beat him to it.

"What do you mean, who I am?" he asked. "It´s me Pas …"

But Javert didn´t let him finish. He only grabbed the boy by his shoulder and forced him around, shoving him towards the door.

"We need to get out of here, before they come back." he demanded. "So move."

The boy obeyed, until they left the closet. As soon as they stepped foot into the hall of this warehouse, he swirled around to Javert, fending off his hand, annoyed and skipped back from him. But not to get away. He faced him, like he had a demand to make. His gaze. He looked at him as if Javert was a crazy person. And almost too grown up in the way he seemed to think.

"Boy." Javert warned him. "If you don´t keep moving I´ll carry you. And believe me, you won´t enjoy it …" And this was the moment when his gaze caught sight of the boxes behind the kid. He´d seen them before when they had brought him in here, but only now did he really see. Those were not just some boxes. This was …

He shoved the kid aside, approaching the boxes. This was impossible. The whole hall was stacked with it. Almost reaching the ceiling. Dear God.

"What is it?" the boy asked in a whisper tone, almost as if he were afraid to startle Javert. He still did. This discovery had been almost too much to recall that there was still someone here with him. These men had to be totally mad.

A growling sound made them both swirl around, to the door leading outside. A beast was standing there, head bowed and eyes glowing a whitely yellow in the shady light of this hall. The threatening sound came from deep within his throat.

Javert instinctively shoved the kid further behind his back. But the dog did not wait for them to figure out who would be his first victim. He lunged forward, barking like a hungry monster, and both Javert and the kid scattered. The dog, too fast to catch its own drive, slithered into the boxes, howling angrily, only a moment before it was at its feet again, to follow after them.

The inspector tried to grab the door and throw it shut to lock the beast in, but the lock was old and didn´t hold the door. It banged off and came open again, allowing the dog to storm through it only a second after them.

Javert felt his head swim again, but somehow he managed it to reach the fence without falling. The boy was quicker than him, and for a moment he believed to feel the breath of the dog on his ankle, just before he swung his legs over the fence and landed, not in his most elegant fashion on the other side.

...

It was unbearable. For some reason Cosette just couldn´t sit still. Something had taken over her mind, and in her head the little voice she´d always imagine to be her mother´s was screaming, telling her that she needed to move, that sitting tight like they did, was simply no option. Even her sweet patient father began to get unnerved by her running up and down. He tried not to show, but she could feel it, see it in the way he constantly wiped the sweat off his forehead. God, where was Pascal? Why did he not return? Surely he was all right. Right?

"I can´t do it." she burst out at last, making her father and Michelle jump as if she´d shouted at them. "I need to get out. I´m suffocating in here. I´m going to the station-house. See how Marius is doing. All right? Just … I just need to walk."

"We noticed." Michelle murmured, trying to say it as quiet as possible, and once again Cosette felt awful.

This was exactly why she needed to get out of here. It was enough that one of them got antsy. They were all worried enough about Pascal … and Javert of course. No need for her to make it even worse for the two of them.

"We go together." her father rose and Michelle stared at him as if she wanted to cry out: Gosh, no! He didn´t notice. But Cosette did.

"It´s all right." she raised her hands. "Someone still has to wait here for Pascal. I´ll be fine. I really just need to get some fresh air."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Don´t worry. I´ll only go to the police, not … some dangerous place."

And in this moment she really didn´t want to think about what other place she could have named if she had allowed her mouth to speak. Her father was already unnerved enough as it was, without her spilling any crazy thoughts. So she took her leave as quickly as possible, not giving him any more time to object or think twice. Because she knew that he would.

...

"Sir, I need to get to this man´s place." Marius approached the desk sergeant. "He gave me his address and …"

"Slow down, son." inspector Taillon talked over him. "This is not your jurisdiction. I was patient with you until now. But this is going too far."

"All right. Then you search his place." Marius rolled his eyes. He didn´t care who´d do it, as long as it got done.

"And why would we do that?" Taillon asked. "Because you say so?"

"There might be a clue somewhere."

"To what?"

"To who´s behind all this?" Marius offered the most obvious explanation. Was this man really that blind or did he simply pretend to be?

"We have the men behind this." Taillon insisted. "And soon we´ll have their partners as well."

"Not if they´re faster than you." Marius corrected him, but instead of taking his advise, Taillon reacted hostile, walking in on him, threateningly.

"You want to insult us?"

"No." Marius did his best to stand his ground without skipping back. "Please, monsieur. All I´m trying to say is … if these men attack again it might be too late."

Taillon simply nodded, as if he understood only too well. "You know what your problem is?" he asked. "You and your friends, those former … Paris police men? You think us provincial. Right? Poor Not-Paris-Police, don´t know how to handle their own affairs. The only reason why I allowed these two old men to meddle in this case, was because the train company hired them. It was their business at risk so it was their right to try desperate and stupid measures. But now the criminals are arrested and we don´t need you guys anymore."

Marius had listened to this in silence. It was more than clear that objections were pointless. So he simply settled with: "I understand."

"I don´t like the tone you´re using, son." Taillon told him.

"I´m sorry to hear that."

For a moment he had to endure the glare of this man. Until Taillon snorted, disparagingly.

"Hiring someone from the Surete." he laughed. "Former criminals."

"Monsieur Javert was with the police as you stated yourself."

"Yeah? And why isn´t he anymore?"

"He retired. After the revolt three years ago."

"I see." Taillon thought for a moment, before he shrugged. "Well, one could take that kind of … ambivalent."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, I guess we could just assume that he retired after this battle because of some sort of … dunno. Trauma?" The sad face he showed Marius was more than just mocking. It was downright insulting. "Having seen such cruelty and so on." the inspector straightened. "Or … he retired after he saw those traitors getting killed. Traitors he might have supported."

"He didn´t. He tried to spy on us to overpower the barricades. He did his best to defeat the revolt. He´s never been for it."

Marius became aware of the suspicious frown between the inspector´s brows.

"Us?" Taillon asked.

"Them." Marius corrected, quickly. "Inspector Javert infiltrated the revolutionaries, posing as one of them, to stop them from the inside. He got caught and almost killed by them. He …"

"Wait wait wait." Taillon raised a hand, as if nothing of this was important. "You said … us." he insisted, and slowly Marius realized just how big his mistake had been.

"Those traitors were mostly students I heard." Taillon regarded him, with a penetrating stare. "You were a student at the time, weren´t you?"

Marius didn´t give an answer to that. But obviously Taillon was a man who didn´t need words to understand certain truths. Especially when it fitted his means.

"Well." he smiled at Marius. "If that isn´t interesting."

...

Javert had no idea how long he´d been lying there, half conscious after this drop from the fence had shaken his already battered head like a tambourine. But when he came back around, his headache was throbbing worse than ever.

"Monsieur Javert!" the voice of the boy was annoyingly loud. "Monsieur."

Javert opened his eyes to the fence only a few inches away, and just in this moment the dog jumped into his view snarling dangerously. He skipped back, only until he realized the dog was kept at bay by the fence. It scratched its paws against the wood, pushed its snout between the laths but in the end it had to give up, yet again. Javert relaxed.

"Are you all right, Javert?" the boy asked, and the inspector looked up at him.

"I´ll live." he answered, shortly, and struggled back to his feet.

The kid gave him a whole minute to recover before he asked, without transition: "What was in those boxes? You looked so pale when you saw them."

Javert regarded this way too curious kid for a moment. He couldn´t have been unconscious for too long when the boxes were the first thing on his mind.

"Gunpowder." he then answered. "And you still haven´t told me how you know me."

Again there was this frown. "How I know you?"

"Why did you follow me here?"

"Be … Because they took you. I … I don´t understand you, sir. Don´t you remember? I … I know I was wrong … it was my fault that you fell out of the train but … Please, I didn´t mean it. I was only trying to help."

Javert´s headache only got worse from all that nonsense. None of this seemed to have anything to do with what he´d asked from the kid. Except …

"You were there when I had my accident?" he caught up to this one crucial information. "So you know what happened."

The boy seemed very sad all the sudden. "I … I didn´t mean … If I would have known …"

"Boy!" Javert stopped the senseless ranting. "Who … did this to me?"

Again there was the worry in the kid´s eyes. "The saboteurs. Monsieur Valjean told me about them after they returned. We didn´t know where you were, so we …"

Javert grabbed the kid, his hand biting into his shoulder like a claw. "Did you say Valjean?" he demanded an answer and the boy nodded.

"Yes. He was worried about you. After …"

"He has every reason to be." the inspector growled, his mind completely clear now.

So this was the answer. This was why he was here, so far away from Paris. Of course. What other business could have brought him so far away from his own jurisdiction? Only this one. The one that got away. But not this time.

"Kid." he demanded attention. "Can you show me where I find this man?"

Another irritated frown appeared between the boy´s brows. "Sure, I can." he said, uncertain. "I told them to wait at the inn, for my return. We can go there together now."

"Good." Javert felt his energy return, quickly. "Lead the way."

Happy New Year, everyone ...